


Lupenrein

by Hoemoghost



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Albania is Valbona Lika, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Characters are Himaruya's "Human Ages", Germany is Ludwig Beilschmidt, Grandpa Rome is Grandpa Roma Vargas, Human Names Used, Italy is Feliciano Vargas, M/M, Original Female Characters are The Italian Renaissance and Albania, Prussia is Gilbert Beilschmidt, Rated Mature for Later Chapters, Romano is Lovino Vargas, Slow Burn, Spain is Antonio Fernández Carriedo, The Italian Renaissance is the mother to the ItaBros, additional content warnings or triggers in beginning notes, more characters to add with additional chapters, translations of non-English phrases and author's notes in end notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7180022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoemoghost/pseuds/Hoemoghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lu●pen●rein - adj. - German - meaning: flawless, perfect, possessing diamond-like quality</p>
<p>Ludwig Beilschmidt doesn't like vacations. Feliciano Vargas has never been anywhere in his life. They live opposite, but equally content and stunted lives, though they are across a border, one thousand miles apart, and have seemingly never met.<br/>In the end, all it takes is a melodic singing voice, a stray curl of hair, and a pair of amber eyes for Ludwig to forget insecurity and remember what it's like to love and be loved.</p>
<p>GerIta/LudFelis; Modern, Human AU, Set in Italy; Tourist!Ludwig and Street Performer!Feliciano</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lupenrein

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings:  
> \- Non-explicit descriptions of wound care (blood is mentioned)  
> \- Mild suggestive themes  
> \- Alcohol consumption by those of legal age (16 in Italy)  
> \- Ludwig gets drunk

Ludwig Beilschmidt usually didn't have time for vacations. Well, he didn't usually allow himself to have time for vacations. His boss was always telling him that he is such a fantastic employee. That Ludwig's quality of work never faltered, regardless of him never taking extended breaks or holidays. His boss would usually take that time to clap him on the shoulder and laugh and tell Ludwig to keep up the good work. Ludwig was always gracious in thanking his boss after paying him a compliment of that nature. And the swell of pride that filled his chest would leave Ludwig glowing from the inside out.  
That fleeting taste of pride is what kept him from taking any breaks from his working schedule. Ludwig liked feeling important. It was like he was apart of a bigger picture, even if the part he played was small. He was content.

This was why Ludwig was surprised to discovered his boss leaning with his hip against his desk, not in his own office. His eyebrows pulled together and lip stuck out in a pout. It was the beginning of the workday. Didn't he have any work of his own to be doing?

"I-is something the matter?" Ludwig turned to close the door to his office.  
"We need to discuss business matters, Beilschmidt. Concerning your-" Ludwig's boss curled their fingers in air quotations "-continued employment."  
Ludwig's stomach clenched. He took a seat in one of the extra chairs lining the wall. He did not trust his shaky knees to deliver him to his proper desk chair. "What... Have I done something wrong? I-I can go through my records if-"  
"No, Beilschmidt, it's nothing like that. You are proficient as ever." His boss winked. "I've just heard that if you don't use your saved up vacation time, immediately, you risk losing it all."  
Ludwig sighed, stomach unclenching and feeling returning back to his fingers and knees. "Oh, if that's all..."  
"And-" Ludwig's stomach tightened once more. "It would put the reputation of the company in jeopardy, should the government find out you've gone 3 years without so much as a sick day." His boss raised an eyebrow at Ludwig. And that's all it took to convince him. 

 

One day and ten hours later, Ludwig was disembarking from the train. He swayed from the stark contrast between moving rail car and solid concrete. He shielded his eyes against the sun streaming down through the vast series of interconnected skylights above him. It was an engineering feat, the thousands of windows curving over the station. The amount of time and effort that must have gone into the design made Ludwig smile.  
The air around him was wet, but easy to breathe. It smelled like petrol and thousands of other sticky, sweaty people. Ludwig wrinkled his nose. He was desperate to take a bath.  
Everything seemed hyper real in Italy. The heat of the atmosphere, the smells that assaulted him from every angle, the sounds of the buzzing and bustling city. Ludwig was glad that he didn't call for a cab from the train station. Feeling the energy of the city pulsating, undulating, around him made him feel warm inside. Like he was a small part of a big picture. He was content.  
... Until he managed to stumble right into the Trevi Fountain. His shin hitting into the lip of the sculpted edge, forcing him to drop his two suitcases out of shock. "Verdammt!" Ludwig cursed under his breath, leaning down to rub his leg. He would just have an annoying bruise for the rest of his stay in Italy. At least he didn't cause damage to his favorite pair of pants.

A rush of wind pulled over Ludwig, cool and bringing with it the fresh scent of spring water and lilacs. The melodic strum of a guitar flowed together with the sounds of bubbling and splashing water. Ludwig placed a steadying hand on the assaulting marble work. Sitting perhaps two yards away from Ludwig was a boy with a Spanish guitar cradled in his arms. His fingers strumming out romantic chords and his foot tapping to a 4/4 beat. Ludwig jumped when the boy started humming in different tones. His mouth making strange shapes which produced the alternating vocalizations.  
The boy had found his desired key and strummed the guitar with a flourish. He beamed at nothing in particular, all his teeth gleaming in the sunlight. Ludwig sat down on the edge of the fountain and watched as the boy adjusted the guitar in his lap, pushing a stray curl of hair out of his face. He opened his mouth once more and-  
Ludwig's heart hammered against his chest. Never before had he heard such wonderful singing. Ludwig ached. He felt like even though he didn't understand a single word he could feel the pain, the love, and the longing rolling off the boys tongue. He was glued to his seat. He was-

"Ciao!" The boy waved at Ludwig and he tucked that stray curl behind his ear again. Ludwig blinked. He was staring. Completely transfixed and spellbound and-  
"Oh- ah, hallo," Ludwig remembered his manners.  
The boy slid over to Ludwig now far too close. "Buono note, bellissimo straniero," the boy fluttered his eyelashes, staring into Ludwig's eyes.  
Did he just call him- "Buono note, ah, schieße, n-non parlo italiano." Ludwig shrugged, still captivated by the boys eyes.  
He laughed then, a chiming and melodic sound, almost exactly like his singing voice. "Do you speak English?"  
Ludwig's heart fluttered. "Yes! I speak English!" He spoke far too excited, far too loud, for their closeness. Ludwig cleared his throat and pinched the inside of his wrist. "I mean- yes, I do speak English," Ludwig murmured, feeling heat rise in his chest and creep up his neck.  
"Then I am glad." The boy smiled at Ludwig, warm, welcoming, and punctuated by two matching dimples on either side of his face.

The world continued to bustle around them, tourists chattering, sun shining, fountain bubbling, but Ludwig heard none of it. Because this boy smelled like lilacs and morning dew and held all the gleaming light of the sun in his eyes, and for a moment Ludwig felt like he was home.

"I suppose I should introduce myself..." Ludwig trailed off, tearing his gaze away from the boy to give his aching chest a brief respite. He stuck out his hand to the boy, meeting his gaze again, heat finally rising to his cheeks. "My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt."  
The boy took Ludwig's hand, sliding still closer to Ludwig. His knee brushed Ludwig's thigh. Ludwig's cheeks burned. "My name is Feliciano."  
Feliciano. Ludwig shook his head, feeling as though no other name would have fit this Italian. "What a beautiful name..." Ludwig found himself saying aloud, a smile forming on his mouth. His heart stuttered as he realized what he said. "D-does it mean anything in particular?"  
Feliciano laughed again, eyes twinkling. "Si, yes, it means happy."  
Ludwig's heart couldn't take much more of this.  
"Does yours mean anything in particular, Ludwig?"  
"Famous fighter," Ludwig felt an old, hollow ache in his chest begin to open.  
"Oh!" Feliciano's body tensed and he clasped his hands around Ludwig's, pulling them to his chest. Ludwig hadn't realized they never broke the handshake. "Have you seen battle, then?" Feliciano stared up at Ludwig anticipation burning in his vivid eyes.  
Ludwig's lips thinned, body turning cold and feeling completely void. "Er- no."  
Feliciano sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing Ludwig's hand like it was life itself. Ludwig did not understand.  
"What-."  
"Thank God, I hate talk of war. I have heard enough of Grandpa's battlefront stories to last me several lifetimes. It breaks my heart every time I hear news that details American wars and how many innocent lives that are lost." Feliciano looked away. "I am glad you haven't had to face that horror firsthand."  
Ludwig was at a loss for words. Feliciano was not disappointed that Ludwig had never seen battle. Was not desperate for a riveting battlefront story. He was happy that he had not seen the horrors of war. Emotion filled Ludwig's cold body, softening his eyes and making his hands shake. Communication was never something that came easy to him. He chewed on the inside of his lip before deciding. Ludwig reached his hand out to cover both of Feliciano's where they were still clutched to his chest. He gave them a meaningful squeeze which forced Feliciano's attention back to him. Feliciano's mouth hung open in the smallest o.  
"We do not have to talk of this, Feliciano."  
And the cheery mood of moments ago was back. The droning hum of idle chatter, the occasional screech of breaks and honking horns of little Italian cars with angry drivers, the heat of the midday sun. Feliciano smiled. Ludwig's heart sang once more.  
"You're right." Feliciano crinkled his eyes up at Ludwig and bobbled his head.

They managed to untangle their hands without making it awkward.

Feliciano crossed his arms over his guitar and leaned onto it, "So," his voice muffled by his cheek that was mashed into the side of his mouth, "you're a tourist?"  
Ludwig nodded, "Ja, is it not obvious?"  
Feliciano giggled, "I could only tell from your bags. Where are you from?"  
Ludwig, a little confused by the almost-rhetorical question, answered, "Germany."  
"Which part?"  
"Berlin."  
Feliciano's eyes flashed, "Big city?"  
"Very. Lots of tall buildings, both new and old."  
"I'd like to travel there someday, I'd like to travel anywhere-" Feliciano's wandering gaze and sentence both stalled at the same time.  
"You're bleeding"  
"What-" Ludwig followed Feliciano's gaze and- ah. Where he had hit his shin earlier. Though the fountain had not damaged his pants, it had hit hard enough to split skin. His pants were stained through with blood. "I hit my leg on the fountain earlier-"  
"I'll take you to get fixed up." Feliciano's stood and slung his guitar across his back. He picked up one of Ludwig's suitcases and offered Ludwig his other hand, "Andiamo!"

 

Ludwig was sat in an empty cantina, save for the bartender, Feliciano, and himself. His leg was propped up on a barstool. Feliciano was on the hunt for a first aid kit. Judging by the clangs and bangs coming from the back room it would be some minutes before he returned with one.  
Ludwig's thoughts wandered to the situation at hand. Back to Feliciano. He realized that he was putting the safety of an open wound in the hands of a total stranger, and a street performer no less. A little scatterbrained Italian who couldn't seem to recognize that Ludwig was from Germany, even though he was the epitome of the stereotypical German man. Someone who played a Spanish guitar, and sang by the Trevi Fountain. A boy whose name meant happy- As if that wasn't the most bizarre case of serendipity Ludwig had ever experienced in his life. Ludwig felt warm.  
When Feliciano returned all vestiges of insecurity disappeared. He may have known Feliciano for only an hour, but that didn't seem to shake Ludwig's intense feelings of trust towards him. And Ludwig liked to think himself an excellent judge of character. 

"Ta-da!" Feliciano waved the hard plastic case in the air. He came to sit on the barstool where Ludwig's leg was resting. Once seated, Feliciano replaced Ludwig's foot onto his lap.  
Ludwig clenched his teeth.  
"Don't you worry Ludwig, I'm an excellent nurse. I'm always patching up Lovino, and he's never even gotten a scar, even though the fool never reapplies his triple antibiotic or replaces his bandages once they fall off. He doesn't know how to take care of himself. He refuses to clean, and he's mean to everyone. Even me sometimes-." Feliciano had since washed the wound of dried blood and moved onto dragging a cotton swab soaked with isopropyl alcohol across the cut.  
Ludwig hissed.  
"I'm sorry." The apology came across as more of a formality than anything.  
"It's fine- um. Keep talking about Lovino. Who is he to you?" Ludwig asked through another swipe of alcohol.  
"Lovino is my brother. We live together with Grandpa." Feliciano smiled. "Who do you live with?"  
"I live by myself, but when I get back to Germany, after this vacation, I'm going to get a dog."  
Feliciano looked up at Ludwig with crinkled eyes. "A puppy! What will you name it?" Feliciano's nimble fingers applied antibiotic to the cut and pressed a line of butterfly bandages to either side of the wound.  
"I think Blackie."  
Feliciano shook with silent laughter. "I love it. What kind of dog is he?"  
"A German Shepard. His pedigree is impeccable," Ludwig allowed himself to sound smug. "He is the offspring of one of my Grandfather's old line. I will be proud to call him my own."  
"All done!" Feliciano patted the bandaged and padded wound.  
Ludwig slid his foot off of Feliciano's lap and bent it to his chest. He flexed his calf and wiggled his toes. It didn't even hurt anymore. Or, perhaps, all the other feelings thrumming in his veins, were fogging his brain and made it impossible to feel anything other than happiness. "Thank you, Feliciano."  
"You're welcome," Feliciano beamed, "I just feel bad your pants got all bloody." Feliciano made a face halfway between disgust and pity.  
"It's fine, I have other pairs. No use in crying over it." Ludwig pulled up his sock and rolled his pant leg back down.

The heavy wooden door to the cantina banged open, the bottles behind the bar clanked and rattled. The bartender stopped polishing the glass clutched in his hands. A dark-haired boy with his arms folded across his chest stamped into the cantina. His face was redder than a tomato and twisted into a snarl.

"Lovino!" Feliciano shouted and waved. The barstool rocked from side to side underneath him.  
Lovino's eyes flashed over to Feliciano, his arms seemed to relax. Then he leaned to the side, around Feliciano and eyed Ludwig. His lip curled back into a snarl. Lovino stabbed a finger at Feliciano, approaching him like a runaway steam train. Italian spilled out of his mouth, the volume of his voice edging towards a shout.  
Feliciano recoiled and raised his palms to Lovino in surrender.  
Lovino continued to shout in Italian.  
As Lovino got closer, Ludwig could see examples of Feliciano's home nursing efforts. There were ace bandages wrapped around Lovino's knuckles and wrists, bandages peppered across his bare arms, and black stitches holding together a particularly rough looking wound to his cheekbone. Ludwig's mind spun, now wondering with wide eyes why on earth he was in such bad shape- and why that was such a commonplace thing.  
Now Feliciano had started countering Lovino's verbal attacks, managing to get a word in here or there.  
Ludwig recognized some words: tagliare- cut, aiuto- help, and bello- handsome, but most of the conversation flew high over his head.  
Ludwig raised a finger, "Excuse me, I-"  
Lovino's eyes flashed to him, nostrils flaring. "You stay out of this, potato bastard."  
Ludwig blinked; what sort of insult was potato bastard?  
Feliciano gasped. He stepped forward, invading Lovino's space. "You listen here Lovino, Ludwig is my friend and he's done nothing wrong. Don't take your anger out on him. Please."  
Lovino's eyes softened, just at the corners, as he looked back to Feliciano. "Fine. Grandpa wants you home now. C'mon." He grabbed Feliciano's wrist. Feliciano squeaked.  
Ludwig had to restrain himself from reaching a hand out to Feliciano's rescue. He had no business getting tied up in his family matters. After all, he did just meet Feliciano.  
"I will see you again, Ludwig!"  
Ludwig's ears twitched as he looked across the cantina. Lovino was just managing to drag Feliciano out of the door.  
Ludwig's eyes met Feliciano's and Ludwig again felt secure within himself. He was certain that if this Italian wished it, they would meet again.  
 

 

Checking into a hotel was something that should never be this difficult. Ludwig resented himself for being so bitter, but this was getting ridiculous. He chimed the desk bell once more and checked his wristwatch for the hundredth time. It was now 3:56 pm. He had been waiting since 2:30.  It wasn't even the blatant lack of paid staff on duty that was making Ludwig's skin itch.  
He had expected as much from Italians at the "siesta hour," which was actually more like siesta three-hour. It was common for these sleepy mediterraneans to return to their homes from the sweltering hours of 1-4 pm for lunch and a nap. But Antonio- Ludwig clenched his fingers around his suitcase handles- was neither Italian, nor was he prone to napping in the middle of the day. He happened to be Ludwig's old college roommate and current traveling companion. No matter how late he may be for their planned rendezvous to exchange room keys and pleasantries.  Ludwig's sparkling good mood from a mere hour before was fading fast. 

 "Luddy!" Ludwig's head whirled around at the intrusion to his cycling thoughts.  
He sighed, equal parts relieved and annoyed. It was Antonio.  Ludwig tipped his head, "Antonio, it's nice to see you." Finally. Ludwig added in his thoughts, throwing Antonio a half-hearted, withering look.  "E'scuse me for being late, mi amigo, but I had other pressing matters to attend to." Antonio wagged his eyebrows.  Ludwig coughed. "Ah-well," Ludwig extended his arms and shrugged at Antonio, "shall we get these up to the room?"  
Antonio, never the one for avoiding physical contact, linked arms with Ludwig and pulled him farther into the hotel lobby. 

Now that Ludwig wasn't fretting over being left in an unfamiliar country by his flaky traveling mate, he had time to appreciate the beauty of the hotel. It's name, Palazzo Di Santa Maria, Ludwig knew had something to do with saints, but didn't care to pull out his Italian to German dictionary to translate. After all, it was just one of those names that was easy to say and pleasant to hear. A name that rolled off the tongue.  
It had old Italian Renaissance class, with thick crown molding, paintings that looked centuries old, lush furniture pieces that beckoned to be lounged upon, and wide, meandering hallways, carpeted in deep jewel tones that lead to rooms with themes and dedicated purposes. They passed by a Turkish Smoking Room, a Music Room with a baby grand piano, a Library, a Billiard Room, and several sets of closed doors that had to lead to more gaudy examples of Italian hospitality. Ludwig's eyes didn't know where to rest, flickering from one artifact of beauty and extravagance to the next.  
Antonio, appearing unfazed, chattered away to Ludwig. He pulled him along hallway after hallway, up stairs and around corners. He avoided rumples in the carpet, and pieces of art that jutted away from the wall with ease. It was almost as if Antonio was leading Ludwig through his own house, and not a hotel in a foreign country.  His most recent topic of conversation was fawning over how "different, but the same" Ludwig was. 

"... And it's like your eyes and hair have stayed the same, but your body," Antonio reached across and patted Ludwig's shoulder.  
"What about it," Ludwig asked more than a little embarrassed.  
"It's like you've become a gym rat, no? Such big and strong biceps you have, mi hermosa." Antonio took that opportunity to grope at Ludwig's upper arm.  
Ludwig swallowed hard, "Antonio, please-"  
"Here we are!"  Antonio had stopped in front of a door with the placard 136. He jangled around in his pocket for the key, producing it a moment later with an exaggerated wrist movement. Antonio slotted the key in the lock and opened the door. He unlinked his arm from Ludwig's, and pushed the door all the way open with his back.  Ludwig nodded and stepped inside.  
Everything was alternating and complementary shades of gold or blue. The bedsheets, the gilded molding. The bed frame, the carpet. The ceiling, the wallpaper.  Ludwig perched his suitcases on the duvet, shuttering to imagine wrinkling the impeccable, pressed sheets.

Then it hit him. He blinked a few times, pushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.  
 "Antonio-"   
Antonio cut Ludwig off with a whistle, "My, my. What an extravagant room!"  
"Antonio-"  
"And look at this view!" Antonio leaned over an arrangement of chairs and peeked out the drapes.  
"Antonio!" Ludwig barked.  
"Si?" Antonio turned back to Ludwig, an easy grin on his face.  
Ludwig stabbed a finger at the bed, giving Antonio a desperate look.  
Antonio just laughed. "What is it?"  
 "Exactly- what is this... This- Bed!"  
"It's just a bed, Ludwig."  
"Just a bed, ja, one."  
Antonio still did not seem to comprehend.  
Ludwig wiped a hand down his face and pinched the skin between his eyebrows. "Antonio, you've been trying to get me into bed with you since college, don't think just because-"  
Antonio actually had the gall to cackle. He doubled over and once he finished laughing, he wiped at the corner of his eyes. "Lo siento, no Ludwig, I meant nothing by it. I haven't even been sleeping in this room."  
 "Then where the hell-"  
 "I've been sleeping in another bed since I came to Italy. The only reason I kept this reservation was for you."  
"Sleeping in another... Bed? Antonio that is completely impractical, why keep a reservation when you are spending nights in a different hotel?"  
"Ludwig." Antonio raised a single eyebrow and smirked.   
Then it clicked.  "I- you- every night- Antonio what happens when you don't... Um- that is- I mean-"  
"Ludwig I've met someone, I've been staying with him."  
Him. Ludwig gulped. And then coughed.    
"Please Ludwig, don't choke on the realization. You had to know."  
Ludwig pursed his lips and looked up towards the gilded heavens for inspiration. "I suppose you're right, you are quite... Expressive."  
Antonio chuckled, "I think the word you're looking for, Luddy, is flaming."  
 That did Ludwig in, his face finally burned with his embarrassment.  
Antonio crossed back to Ludwig and patted him on the shoulder.  "I'll give you some time to unpack and settle in. How about we meet for breakfast tomorrow?"  
 Ludwig smiled, "That sounds good, do you have dinner plans?"  
Antonio's eyes glinted, his eyebrows twitching upward, "Si."  
 Ludwig coughed again.  
 "I won't keep you any longer, mi amo, I must get going, or else I risk pissing off my beloved twice in one day." Antonio was already retreating towards the door. He lobbed the room keys over his shoulder, to Ludwig's waiting palm.  "Hasta mañana, Luddy."

 

By 4:15 Ludwig had unpacked his bags, taking great care to organize his casual, formal, and athletic clothing. His suitcases stored away in his closet, along with his dinner jacket, cardigan, and field coat. He perched on the edge of the bed and tapped the tips of his fingers together. The full weight of being alone in another country seemed to hit him all at once.  
He longed to be in his apartment, back in Germany. With his personal library of instruction manuals, and his desk covered in hand drawn aircraft designs. His drawers full of protractors, compasses, and drawing pencils. His familiar daily routine of work, home, exercise, and sleep.  
This extravagant home-away-from-home did nothing to calm his frayed nerves. The silken sheets didn't comfort, nor did the biblical images that adorned the ceiling, á la Sistine Chapel. He felt like the judgement of God was upon him, though he hadn't ever been that much of a religious man before.  
Red hair and big eyes the color of petrified Amber flashed before Ludwig's eyes. He blinked once more to clear his thoughts, only to realize that his nervousness had been cut off short. Feliciano, the street performer with rakish good looks and an expressive face, was the one who popped into Ludwig's mind when he was about to tip over the edge. And he had quite literally just met the boy; only having interacted with him for a bit more than an hour.  
Ludwig pressed his lips together, he felt hot. His stomach fluttered and his heart raced. He stood up, patting nonexistent dust from his pants. He resolved to venture out of his room to the front desk to see if they had any pain medication to set his stomach right.

Ludwig liked to pride himself on his sense of direction. In Germany he could take down the address of a restaurant and find it from intuition alone. Gilbert, Ludwig's well-meaning but scatterbrained older brother, was always calling Ludwig up when he got lost. Ludwig could always manage to direct him to his destination from Gilbert's sketchy visual cues alone.  
But here in Italy that talent had been thrown to the wind. Much like Ludwig's example of disregard to his surroundings earlier in the day when he hit his shin on the Trevi Fountain, he was now struggling to find his way out of the labyrinthine hallways that made up Palazzo Di Santa Maria. And the fact that there were no maps that designated a fire exit route with a "you are here" pinpoint, only served to further disorient and frustrate Ludwig. He was so turned around that he wasn't sure he was going to be able to make it back to his own room without help.

Close by, there was a sound of a door slamming closed. Ludwig pivoted on his heel. That meant someone was nearby. Ludwig headed off in the direction he thought the sound came from.  
As he traversed hallways, the roar of a large group of people chattering over top of each other beckoned to Ludwig. It drew him to a speakeasy style door with a rectangular slat that could slide open. As Ludwig took a step closer to the door, the floor creaked beneath him.

The slat slid open with a slap, "Room number?" Came a voice from the other side of the door. It was a deep baritone with a thick Italian accent. Like one that might belong to an older Italian gentleman.  
"A-a room 136," Ludwig spoke to the door.  
"Password?" The disembodied voice replied.  
Ludwig blurted out the first Italian word that came to him, "Pomodoro?"  
The voice barked out a laugh, gruff and cold, "that was last week's password, but I'll let it slide this once."  
The slat slapped closed and Ludwig heard several sets of deadbolts unlocking.  
The figure on the other side of the door was, indeed, an older Italian gentleman. He was attractive, but not in the conventional sense. Like the vestiges of his youth still shone through his laugh lines, silver-flecked hair, and thin-lipped smirk.  
"Ah!" Exclaimed the man, shrugging his wine glass at Ludwig. "A German!"  
Ludwig's face twitched. He was not sure how to respond. Perhaps something like "ah- an Italian!"  
The man raised an eyebrow and eyed Ludwig. "Are you going to come in?"  
Ludwig folded his hands together behind his back and nodded once. He shuffled through the door, flinching when it swung closed with a deafening slam.  
Above Ludwig, all the chandeliers had red light bulbs turned down to the lowest setting. The only true source of light came from several sets of floor to ceiling windows to Ludwig's left. Though even those were struggling to shine through heavy silk curtains. Through that odd lighting Ludwig could only make out distorted, chiaroscuro-esque, figures in the party. They all looked to be beautiful; some of the women obviously models, tall and thin, and some of the men intimidatingly well-muscled.  
A hand touched between Ludwig's shoulders. He jumped away from the contact.

"Aha- a little jumpy, aren't we?" The Italian grumbled with laughter.  
A cold sweat broke out over Ludwig's brow. In a sordid attempt at a reply Ludwig forced out a throaty laugh. "N-not at all, sir."  
"Sir? Don't make me laugh. You will call me Roma or Grandpa Vargas like everyone else." The wine in Roma's glass sloshed as he bumped it into Ludwig's arm.  
"Roma, then."  
Ludwig had not noticed, but by that time they had managed to make it to the other end of the darkened room. On the wall opposite the drawn windows was a long, hardwood bar. Ludwig must have managed to find the hotel's entertainment centre, after all. Though he was unsure as to why such a revenue-generating staple to a business was restricted to those with a password. Ludwig shrugged to himself. It must be an Italian thing.

"Sebastian, please get our German friend here a stein of our finest craft beer." Roma spoke to the barkeep, leaning with his elbows perched on the deep and dark stained wood.  
"Ah- you don't have to do that, I'm actually just looking for-"  
"Please, I insist."  
Ah. Now Ludwig was trapped, either take the gift and feel strange for not having something to give in return, or refuse and be seen as a mannerless heathen.  
When Sebastian returned with with the stein he slid it over to Ludwig. The contents sloshed over the sides and left the mug glistening in the red glow of the room. Ludwig lifted it up to his host, who clinked the brim of his wine glass on the side of Ludwig's drink, making a casual toast.  
Roma smiled a strange smile at Ludwig. It was one that would have been menacing if they had met in a darkened alleyway, just moments before a drug deal was about to go wrong. One that would have preceded Ludwig taking a swim with the fishes.  
Ludwig gave Roma a nervous smile back, after which he took a long swallow of the Italian beer. It was satisfying and cool in the heavy atmosphere of the room.

 

What must have been several hours later, long after the sky had darkened outside and the glowing red lights above were turned up to maintain visibility, Ludwig Beilschmidt was well and truly smashed. After that first beer, Roma had ordered up two more rounds from Sebastian. Roma had still been working on his original wine glass, taking simple sips every now and then, between increasingly more personal questions, all directed at Ludwig. And with every glass, which must have had a higher alcohol content than the beer Ludwig was used to, Ludwig's inhibitions seemed to be creeping closer and closer to leaping out the window.  
Part of Ludwig screamed at him to stop drinking, to just find someone to take him back to his room, and get back to his humble desolation. But the part of him that was in control loved this feeling. It was the pleasure connected with the simple enjoyment of a good time. His teeth felt sensitive to the cold beer, his body was warm and glowing, his eyes hazy, and his head bobbing to and fro to the flamboyant Italian records playing from a Gramophone in the corner. It was all so addictive.  
So, long after Roma had to excuse himself to break up a fistfight that had broken out somewhere behind Ludwig, he opened a tab on his room account and instructed Sebastian to keep the beer flowing.

There was the jarring sound of a record ripping against the needle stylus and Ludwig startled awake. Much to his dismay, he had pillowed himself against his forearms, leaning heavily over the bar. His mouth was agape and a sticky trail of drool ran down his chin. He wiped the saliva off with the back of his hand and yawned. His teeth still felt like they were vibrating in his skull.

"This Elvis man is right, you know." Came a voice from behind Ludwig. It was feminine but gravelly.  
Ludwig turned his head and blinked the haze from his eyes. "What?"  
The woman, thin and short, with a headscarf concealing her hair, moved to sit in the stool next to Ludwig. She raised her eyebrows, gesturing to the seat. Ludwig tipped his head to the side, giving her permission to sit.  
She pulled the chair out for herself and sat facing away from the bar and angled towards Ludwig. Her knee rested on the edge of his stool as she crossed her legs. "I said: Elvis is right. This song, he sings that wise men say that only fools rush into love."  
Ludwig nodded despite himself. "That does seem the practical way of thinking, doesn't it?"  
"What do you mean?" She inquired, then signaled to the barman to bring her another of the drink she held in her hand. It looked like it it might be brandy or whisky, no ice.  
"I'm all mixed up about love. It seems like every person has one perception on how it should happen; Through long term courtship between two people, or maybe even hot, passionate encounters with several different ones. But in the end it all seems to hurt. Parents who you love and look up to, die. Someone who you thought you would spend your entire live with can leave you with moments notice. You might fall in love with someone you just met and have no idea if you'll ever see them again-" Ludwig cut himself off short, blazing with embarrassment at his rambling, runaway mouth.  
"Hey, hey now." The woman smacked her hand twice on Ludwig's shoulder. "I didn't mean to give ya a midlife crisis, I just wanted to break the ice. You seemed like the only half-decent guy in here." She gave Ludwig a wry smile with sidelong eyes.  
"Ah, I do apologize." Ludwig offered his hand to the woman.  
"Is that the hand you just used to wipe drool from your mouth?"  
Ludwig's fingers twitched, "Ah, yes, sor-"  
"I don't mind." The woman grasped at Ludwig's hand and squeezed.  
Ludwig gulped under her predatory stare. "M-my name is Ludwig." He pulled out of the handshake and folded his arms back together over the bar.  
"My name is Valbona. My friends call me Val."  
Ludwig nodded at Valbona, mind feeling foggy. He was not in the least bit interested in socializing any further. He wondered what hour it had gotten to.  
Yet, again, despite his better judgement, Ludwig ordered another round of beers. He did his best to sip them slowly, but ended up downing two mugs in the time It took Valbona to grow more confident with her flirtatious advances.

"Why does anything matter, you know? I could die in a lightning storm tomorrow, so why waste time being a good girl?"  
Ludwig couldn't keep up with her so he just bobbled his head, trying to convey some sort of attentive gesture.  
"And you- look at you! All gorgeous and glowing and more handsome than any man has a right to be, and you are just as hopeless and disenchanted with the world as me."  
Ludwig frowned at that, did he really come off as hopeless and disenchanted?  
Valbona placed her hand over Ludwig's. Leaning close, he could smell alcohol and tobacco on her breath.  
"I have a proposition for you, Ludwig." She murmured so low, Ludwig had to strain to hear her over the crescendo of an outburst of Italian merry making on the other side of the room.  
"Y-es?" Ludwig hiccuped and rubbed his eye with his free hand.  
"Why don't we get out of here and be alone and disenchanted with the world together?" Valbona's hand dropped to Ludwig's thigh.  
Ludwig's eyes snapped up to Valbona. Now that he really looked at her, eye color obscured by the red glow of the room, dark skin, and the hard contours of her striking face, Ludwig realized that he wanted none of it. He wanted none of her.  
"I-I'm flattered, but I must tell you I'm already seeing someone." Ludwig lied, praying to god she would believe it.  
"Oh?" Valbona challenged. "What's her name, then?"  
"Feliciano." Ludwig started and slapped his hand over his mouth. He looked at Valbona with wide eyes.  
For a moment Valbona looked equally surprised, but then she rolled her eyes. "I guess that makes sense." She chuckled. "It's always the good looking ones that are gay."  
Ludwig pulled his eyebrows together. His head had started to hammer against his skull to the beat of his heart. And at his mention of Feliciano's name it seemed to double. Maybe even triple. He winced and rubbed at his temples, looking away from Valbona.  
"Hey, buddy, how many of those have you had?" Valbona flicked the rim of the stein.  
Ludwig winced at the sound and tried to count through the fog in his mind. "Ah- eight, I think."  
"God almighty," Valbona said with a mixture of horror and awe.  
Ludwig groaned and put his head on his forearms again. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a second-  
"Hey- hey Ludwig. You need to get up. If you pass out here I won't be able to get you to your room."  
"What?"  
"I'm going to help you get to bed. What's your room number?" Valbona pulled on Ludwig's collar, urging him to sit up.  
"136, but it's no use. I can't make it back; I got lost." Ludwig sat up finally, the room around him spinning and running together like a Jackson Pollock painting gone all wrong.  
"I can find my way. I've been living here for three months. I know this baby like the back of my hand."  
Ludwig didn't reply. Instead he felt a sturdy arm wrap around his middle and slide him off his chair. His feet landed on the floor with a dull thunk. He swayed in place before wrapping his arm around Valbona's shoulders, leaning heavily against her.  
"Off we go!"

 

The next moment Ludwig was fully aware of was when his face hit the pillow. He inhaled the lingering scent of clean linens, feeling dizzy and warm.  
"How do you Germans sleep?" The sharp, accented voice of Valbona asked above him.  
Ludwig hummed into the pillow, meaning to indicate he was fine as he was, but it definitely came across as more of a moan.  
Valbona cracked her knuckles as she eyed the deep contours of Ludwig's body. She could get used to hearing that voice of his moaning. But he was drunk off his ass, and he hadn't stopped babbling about his boyfriend the entire walk to his room. Neither of those instances screamed consent to Valbona, so she kept her hands to herself.  
Valbona went to the bathroom and rinsed out one of the glasses in the sink and refilled it with cold water. She eyed herself in the mirror, rolling her eyes at her pink cheeks and disheveled hijab. What a mess.  
She returned to Ludwig and sat the glass of water down on the bedside table. He was breathing heavily, face down in the pillow, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. At least in this position he wouldn't aspirate.  
Valbona hesitated leaving the room. She felt like there was still something she could do to make Ludwig more comfortable. Though, she wasn't about to strip Ludwig down to his tightie whities. She didn't know what German decency practices were, or whether the man would be wearing something obscene underneath his clothes. Like assless underwear. Or a thong.

A rectangle of light shone through Ludwig's back pocket and a faint buzz echoed in the silence of the room.  
Valbona steeled her resolve and slipped her hand into Ludwig's pocket and pulled out his phone. It was a text message from someone named Gilbert with an image attachment. The phone buzzed again, another message from Gilbert. This time it was a text message saying "Hoffe, dass sie in ihrem Hotel sicher angekommen!!! Text mir in den morgen!! TRINKEN SIE NICHT ZU VIEL!"  
Valbona didn't pretend to have a clue what that was supposed to say. She cleared the notifications and turned on the phone's Do Not Disturb mode. Valbona closed the control center and gasped.  
Ludwig's wallpaper surprised her. It was a shaky photograph of Ludwig and another man. The other had white hair and reddish eyes. His complexion was even paler than Ludwig's, but they had the same nose and eyebrows. He was making a defiant face at the camera that he held in his extended arm, while holding Ludwig's head with the other. Ludwig looked both shocked and confused with his cheek pressed into the other's wild, white hair. It was as if the other had leapt on him and snapped the picture during the chaos.  
Valbona's heart warmed. They had to be brothers.  
Valbona made quick work of plugging Ludwig's phone into the charger, pulling the soft coverlet over Ludwig's prone figure, and then ushering herself outside. She locked the room up and then slid the key back under the door. She unwound her scarf from her head and draped the fabric over her forearm. She scratched at the crown of her hair. It was time to get a few hours of much needed sleep before beginning the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Buono note, bellissimo straniero - Good evening, beautiful stranger  
> Palazzo Di Santa Maria - The Palace of Saint Mary  
> Pomodoro - Tomato  
> Hoffe, dass sie in ihrem Hotel sicher angekommen!!! Text mir in den morgen!! TRINKEN SIE NICHT ZU VIEL! - Hope you arrived safely in your hotel!! Text me in the morning! DON'T DRINK TOO MUCH!
> 
> Author's Notes:  
> Hello there and welcome to Lupenrein! I'd like to thank tumblr user gleamingcrescentblog for making the prompt that urged me to make this AU, George deValier for breaking my heart with "Auf Weidersehen, Sweetheart" and making me need to write a pseudo-fix-it fic, and my best friend Meghan for being my lovely fluency checker and personal morale booster. I'll see you all in the next chapter! Kudos/Comments/Bookmarks are always appreciated!


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